


One Last Time Forever

by ashtraythief



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - War, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jared, M/M, Past Underage, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen knows the city's walls won't hold any longer, he just never thought he'd see Jared again before they fall</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Time Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Written for October's smpc

 

 

It's hard to remember a different sight. Jensen knows that once, there was nothing but open fields, dry grass spreading out over rocky ground, and the occasional tree as a landmark on the endless plains.

Not anymore.

Now, as far as the eye can see, there are only the gray tents. Row after row, they stretch out over the plains, a dark and threatening presence, reminding them every day what's at stake.

And for the past two hundred and forty-seven days, Jensen has looked at them knowing that no matter how many soldiers the enemy sent, no matter how many tents covered the ground like mushrooms shooting up after a summer rain, the walls would hold.

The walls, ancient and impenetrable, erected hundreds of years ago, would protect the city and its people, and the mountains behind them would give them cover while they hunted for provisions. Sure, they had to ration food and all other commodities, but they had enough to survive the winter and there was no way an army would be able to survive the harsh and biting winds out on the plains. They just had to make it until winter, survive and then in spring, their allies would come and they would be saved.

Now, the siege engines have arrived.

Chris and Jensen watch with sinking hearts how a span of oxen drag the heavy wooden machinery through the endless camp. Watch how the men assemble the giant towers, the strong battering rams fortified with iron and, most dangerous of all, the heavy catapults that will be able to hurl stones against their walls, and balls of fire over them, destroying homes, supplies and people.

“We're doomed.” Chris's voice is void of any emotion as he continues to watch the soldiers buzzing around the catapults like busy little bees, their commanders sitting on horses, shouting orders.

Jensen nods. “A week. If we're lucky.”

“Actually I think we'll die tomorrow. Look over there.” Chris points to their left, where a bigger group of oxen is hauling giant round rocks behind them.

They're big enough to destroy the wooden gates, if they're released with enough power. Considering how big the largest catapult is, the power will be more than sufficient.

“You're right. Tomorrow.”

They always knew that as soon as the enemy would breach the walls, it'd be over. They are outnumbered five to one and only a quarter of the people inside the walls actually know how to wield their weapons. They're hungry and tired from being cooped up inside the city walls for the better part of a year without enough food.

“I'll give orders to evacuate.” Chris waves one of his men over and tells him to fetch his second-in-command. Ever since the Lord of their city died three months ago, Chris has made all decisions about the defense of the city, seeing as how he was the head of the city's guard.

Jensen had been the only field commander in the city when the initial attack happened, and his company had supported the city guard during the siege, but it's not enough by far. The rest of their troops are cut off, involved in other fights all along the borders. The attack had been executed perfectly, several of their allies turning on them at once, trying to break the power of their empire.

They had succeeded. Not that is matters anymore. The only thing important now is getting the people inside the walls to safety.

Jensen only listens with one ear when Chris tells Steve calmly what to do. They had worked out the plan months ago, right after the siege started.

It's simple really. Everyone who can hold a weapon will fight, while the rest of the people make their way through the back gates into the mountains, trying to get into the barren and rough terrain to seek shelter in scattered caves, leaving the city before the looting starts.

Their enemy isn’t known for his kindness and the soldiers have been too long without a woman's touch – or anyone's really. They will fall upon the city like a swarm of hungry locusts, devouring everything in their path.

Distantly he hears the screams, hears people running around, packing their stuff and the city guard giving orders. He just hopes people won't panic.

“I don't know about you, but I'm gonna go down to the tavern,” Chris says in a conversational tone. “One of their waitresses there, Molly, she always had a thing for me, and I think tonight’s gonna be the night.”

“Well, if you ever had a shot, it's tonight.”

“What about you?” Chris scrutinizes him. “You're gonna drink and gamble your last night away, find some nice warm body to warm your bed?”

Jensen shakes his head.

“Don't tell me you're gonna brood again. Fuck, Jensen, this is the time to finally let it go.”

“Don't worry,” Jensen says with a dark smirk. “I fully intend to find myself a nice, big bottle. But I don't want any company.”

Chris shakes his head. “Jensen – ah, never mind. Just don't go to sleep too late. I wanna give them a helluva fight tomorrow.”

Jensen nods, and when Chris holds out his hand, Jensen takes it and draws his friend into a half-hug.

“We had a good run, man.”

“We did.”

Chris draws back and looks at him. “It's gonna be good dying with you watching my back.”

 

After Chris leaves to give more orders and supervise the evacuation, Jensen goes to his men. They've commandeered the empty house of a merchant who was outside the city when the siege started. It's a bit cramped in the spacious rooms and wide halls – three hundred men do take up a lot of space – but they wanted to stay together.

Jensen gathers them in the big dining hall. There's not much to say; they have known the score for a long time, and they all know that they are the ones to stay behind, to fight to the last man to give the citizens as much time as possible to escape. They're hardened soldiers, have seen their fair share of battles, and they take the news stoically.

“So tonight, we celebrate,” Jensen says. “We celebrate being alive, being remembered. We celebrate that we will die in the company of our friends and brothers and that we will take as many of those bastards out there with us as we can. Tonight, we celebrate ourselves!”

The men roar out of one throat, pumping their fists in the air and bashing their swords against their shields.

Yes, Jensen's men will make him proud.

 

He's walking through the dark streets, weaving his way through the throngs of people either packing and leaving, or celebrating their last night on earth, when there's a sudden commotion on the far side of the city.

Jensen can see the guards running along the walk ways on top of the city's walls, fires being lit and people shouting. He changes his route immediately and starts to jog. It takes him five minutes to reach the city's wall. A guard is already running towards him, waving his arms frantically.

“Sir! Lieutenant! There are people coming along the side of the mountain. Warriors!”

“Who?”

“I- I'm not sure, I mean. It's impossible-”

Jensen narrows his eyes at the stuttering soldier. “Tell me. Now!”

“They look like the Last Brotherhood.”

Jensen draws in a sharp breath. It's not impossible, but it's highly unlikely. But when he climbs the stairs up to the battlement and looks out into the dusk, he sees that the soldier is right.

In a long line, they're walking along the small mountain path, tall figures, enveloped in dark cloaks and hoods drawn deep into their faces. The long swords are slung over their backs, their giant handles protruding up over their shoulders. There seem to be about fifty of them and Jensen hurries down the stairs again.

“Open the gate.”

The guard there looks at him nonplussed. “What?”

“The gate, open the fucking gate!”

“But Sir-”

“Right the fuck now, soldier!” Jensen's voice leaves no room for argument, and the guard opens the small door to the inaccessible side of the mountain, the terrain so sharp and rocky, it's difficult for anyone to master and impossible for an army to climb.

The members of the Last Brotherhood slowly file inside, forming a half-circle and the tallest among them, a red patch on his dark cloak identifying him as the leader, steps forward.

Jensen knows who it is even before the warrior draws the hood back. There's just something so distinctive about Jared's shoulders, the way his broad hands move, but it's still a shock when he reveals his face. Jared has grown up. Rationally, Jensen knew he would, but he never tried to imagine him different from the nineteen-year-old boy he left behind.

Ten years are a long time. Jared has filled out, matured, and there's a new harshness in the set of his jaw and a coldness in his eyes that Jensen never thought could be there.

“We have come to die.” Jared speaks the ritualistic phrase of the Brotherhood with a deep voice and Jensen guesses he's the only one who can make out the shaking in it.

“Then our bodies shall burn side by side.” Jensen gives the appropriate answer, but his voice is wooden. How the hell did Jared end up with the Brotherhood?

Then Jared takes a step forward and his posture changes and suddenly he's that boy again.

“Jensen.”

Jensen turns on his heels and walks away. All around him he can hear the people muttering excitedly. The Brotherhood is here, they are saved.

Their ceremonial vow to die is real, a sign of their commitment to whatever cause they fight for, but the Brotherhood is also known for picking the fights they can actually win.

There are stories of the old times of course, when the Brotherhood sacrificed their men again and again, to die for noble and righteous causes, their deeds being sung about by every bard, but the general decline of their world, the fall into corruption and decadency that had let to this very war – it hadn't made halt in front of the Last Brotherhood.

Jensen can hear Jared following him and he ducks into one of the many abandoned houses. There are no shutters on the windows and the dim light from all the fires outside spills inside, bathing the room in an eerie gray light, shadows dancing along the walls.

The door shuts with a hollow sound after Jared enters the room.

“Why did you come here?” He can't look at Jared, so he stares at the far wall of the tiny kitchen he stepped into. “You will die here, you know. There is no way for us to win.”

“But it's the right side of the fight. And it's long overdue that the Brotherhood takes a stand again.”

Now Jensen does turn around.

Jared is standing at ease. He's clearly comfortable with his new body now, no longer a slightly awkward teenager not yet grown into his long limbs.

“Jared, leave. I don't care if you take your men with you or not, but I want you out of this city before sunrise.”

Jared crosses his arms over his chest. “Not gonna happen.”

“Jared.” Jensen drags a hand through his hair in frustration and tries to remain calm. “This is not your fight. And I won't have you die on my watch, so _leave_!”

Jared takes a step forward and Jensen takes a step back. He can't remember the last time he did that, but Jared Padalecki always had a way of getting under his skin.

“This is me now, Jensen. You might not like how my life turned out, but I knew what I signed up for when I took the vows. I've been doing this for ten years.”

An ice-cold fist closes around Jensen's heart. Ten years.

“Yeah, Jen, ten years.” Jensen is pretty sure he didn't say it out loud, but then Jared never had a problem reading his expressions.

The memories come unbidden, burning houses and screaming people, twisted, charred bodies lying in broken ruins. It answers all the questions Jensen hasn't asked yet, why Jared joined the Brotherhood, where the look in his eyes comes from-

“So your sister...”

“Didn't make it.” There's pain in Jared's voice, old pain, the kind you carry around your whole life.

“I'm so sorry.” Jensen has to speak around the lump in his throat. “If it helps, I killed them. I killed them all.”

Jared nods. “I knew you would. I just thought you'd come back after.”

“I couldn't.”

Jensen remembers sitting at the crossroads, his men already on their way to join the main troops. He'd told them to ride ahead, to give his commander his resignation, he needed to go home, help with the rebuilding of the ruins.

Except he couldn't. Couldn't banish the memories of Jared's parents lying dead in their house, Jared’s sister a bleeding, beaten mess behind the little shed where Jared and Jensen had played hide and seek, and Jared himself, covered in dirt and soot, tears running down his face, a long gash on his arm and his eyes so big and huge and just asking _why_.

And Jensen couldn't go back and tell him why, couldn’t tell him how it had all been his fault that Jared's whole family was gone, that their whole fucking village was gone, just because Jensen had been stupid.

“So you do blame yourself. I wondered, you know.” Jared walks past him.

He takes off his long coat and the Bidenhänder slung over his shoulder, and unbuckles his weapons-belt. He puts it down on a rickety chair and and leans back against a large, wooden table.

“Of course I do. It was my fault, and I just – I meant to come back, but when I finally did, you were gone. No one knew where you went. I tried to find you, but you had just disappeared. I guess now I know where you went. Really, Jared, of all things you had to join the Brotherhood.”

Jared shrugs his shoulders and gives him a one-dimpled smile, the one that used to take his breath away every goddamn time, and yes, it still does.

“Everyone I loved was either dead or gone. I had nothing but the clothes on my back. There weren't a lot of choices. And you were the one who always told me how great it was to be out there and fight, to protect the people.”

“Yes, as a soldier, not a suicide warrior!” Jensen can't believe the nonchalance with which Jared is talking about his choice to throw his life away.

“The difference isn't all that big. You fight. You die or you live. You fight again.”

Jensen shakes his head. “That's not you, Jared.”

“If you'd bothered to stick around, you'd realized that this is me now.” For the first time, Jared sounds angry. “If you'd bothered to come back, you would have seen that there was absolutely no other way, because _everyone_ was gone! Oh, wait, if you'd come back, not everyone would have been gone. Huh, who knows what I would've done then.”

Jared's words rip through Jensen's heart, because Jared is right. Jensen just never would've thought that Jared would become like this.

“I'm so sorry.” Jensen doesn't know why he's saying it. The words aren't enough, can't even come close to what he's feeling.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Jared's looking at him earnestly, and even though he's telling him he's forgiven, Jared's voice still has that hard edge to it.

“You shouldn't. I made a mistake and you paid for it with everything you had. It's nothing that can ever be forgiven.”

Jared exhales heavily. “I heard the stories, ” he said after a short moment of silence.

“What?”

“The stories about you. Travelers tell them in taverns, bards sing them at the markets.”

Jensen makes a dismissing motion with his hand. “They're just stories.”

“So it isn't true that you single-handedly saved the city of Salamank when you challenged the leader of the invading army to a duel and won?” Jared asked, challenge and anger in his voice.

“He didn't have an army and Salamank is nothing more than a mountain village.”

“Right.” Jared's eyebrows still draw up the exact same way when he's calling bullshit. “And you also didn't defend the Western Forest against an army of the Rhal outnumbering you ten to one by playing hide and seek with them for weeks, always a step ahead of them? And you didn't uncover a plot to kill the Darian heir to the throne, basically preventing a civil war?”

“It doesn't matter!” The words just explode out of Jensen. After ten years of keeping them trapped inside, he has no control over what he was saying. “It's all completely fucking irrelevant! I was just- Don't you get it? You were the only thing that ever really mattered, the only thing that ever made sense in this world, and I let you down.”

Jared just glares at him and suddenly Jensen can see the petulant teenager again, who couldn't understand why he was too young to follow Jensen when he joined their capital's troops.

“You weren't the one who killed them, Jen. You know as well as I do that it was a bunch of fucking deserters.”

“That I was supposed to track down!” Jensen shouts. “But I thought, I'm just half a day's ride away from you, why not make a quick stop. They followed me and I led them right to you. If I'd just done what I was supposed to do, they would never have come to Two Rivers.”

“You don't know that,” Jared says, and there's something pleading in his eyes, something that reminds Jensen too much of the little boy just wanting to have a friend, and he needs to make this conversation stop. He needs to make Jared go.

“Jared, why did you come here?”

“Because this is the right battle to fight, the right stand to take. And because I won't live in a world without anyone I love.”

The words just break Jensen. After all this time, after everything that happened, Jared can still love him. Jared with his big heart, always a spot for abandoned animals or orphaned blacksmith apprentices.

“Don't. Please, baby don't do this. I can't have your death on my conscience.”

“Damn you!” Jared angrily steps towards him, grabs a hold of his shirt, pushes Jensen back against the table and slams their mouths together. “You bastard, you goddamn bastard.”

Jensen would reply, but Jared is kissing him, Jared is touching him, fingers digging into his arms and hard chest pressing against his. And even though it's been ten damn years, Jensen remembers how this should feel, how Jared should taste, except everything is different. It's more, brighter, all-consuming and Jensen can't think anymore.

“I'm not a kid anymore, this is my choice.”

Jared's mouth is back, insistent and hard, but so much more power and confidence behind it than the pushy, impatient teenage brat he used to be.

When Jared pulls away, Jensen can’t stop the noise of protest from slipping out of his mouth, but somehow Jared has already wrestled his pants open and is sinking to his knees, looking up at Jensen through his long hair. Jensen gets a flash of a younger, more rounded face, looking at him through bangs constantly hanging in the kid's eyes, and the look is the same. Want, determination and that stubborn you-can't-stop-me glinting, it's still there.

Jensen knows what's coming. Just because they last did this ten years ago doesn’t mean he managed to forget even the tiniest detail. It still takes his breath away when Jared swallows him down.

He always did this, taking him in deep and whole at first, making Jensen gasp with sensory overload, diving right in, before pulling back, licking and nipping and just being an insurmountable tease.

And when Jared’s lashes flutter and he makes this tiny noise when he exhales, warm breath gushing over the spit-slicked head of Jensen’s dick, it's like it was just yesterday that Jared pushed him down in the grass for the first time.

“I'm sixteen,” he'd said and “not a kid anymore”.

Jensen knew he wasn't a kid anymore, could see it in the broadening shoulders and the way his body had just shot up over night, but his face still had that soft roundness, that innocence to it and he hadn't been able to taint something so pure and happy with his war-soiled hands.

But Jared, sweet, playful, and stubborn-as-a-mule Jared, had pushed him down, ripped his pants open and taken him in whole, to ward off any protests.

It had sort of become a thing after that, because Jensen just couldn't say no. Not to the heat and the wetness, but most of all, not to the burning look in Jared's ever shifting eyes, so dark when glinting up at him from under his lashes.

So now Jensen buries a hand in Jared's hair, not guiding him, because he learned long ago that there is no one who can really guide the force of nature that is Jared Padalecki, but to hold on.

He steadies himself with his other hand on the edge of the table and tries to keep the noise down. The last thing they need is a concerned watchmen storming in, thinking someone's hurt.

Jensen tries to last, because it's been years and he'll never have this again ever, and it's _Jared_ , but it's impossible. Jared is pulling out all the stops, pushing his tongue under the crown of Jensen’s dick, using more spit than necessary, making it wet and messy and oh-so-good. He's swallowing around him, whole length down his mouth and throat and Jensen is helpless but to come when Jared demands it with a look is his eyes.

He slumps back against the table, panting like a courier horse and sweat running down his neck. Jared is already standing up, getting into Jensen’s face and kissing him again. He tastes like Jensen now, and it makes his spent dick twitch.

Jensen grabs hold of Jared's hair again and now he's tugging, and yeah, it still makes Jared moan.

“You didn’t cut it,” he says into Jared's neck before biting down.

Jared's head falls back and a torn moan tumbles from his lips.

“Couldn't,” Jared says with a gasp. “What if I'd see you again.”

Jensen growls, can't help the possessiveness from flaring up and yanks Jared in closer, getting his hand into his pants.

Jared is hard and leaking and Jensen has to look down to see the head of his dick, so dark and swollen with blood. Jared's groan is one of relief and want when Jensen wraps his hand around him.

“Yes. Gods, Jensen, so long, so fucking long.”

“I know,” Jensen mumbles into Jared's skin, burying his face in the crook of his neck, licking and worrying the skin there, right above his collarbone, where it drives Jared crazy.

His breathing has sped up and his chest is heaving while he's sucking in air. He's sweating just as much as Jensen now. He pushes his dick into Jensen' fist, moves his hips in sync with Jensen's hands.

“Stop. Shit, want you Jensen, want you to fuck me.”

Just like that Jensen is assaulted by a new wave of memories – Jared spread out in the grass, all golden tan and a mixture of shy and proud of his naked body; Jared on all fours on the soft forest ground, pushing back into Jensen; Jared on his bed, clinging to Jensen when he pushes inside, making _that_ noise; Jared riding him with flushed cheeks, his hair a wild crown around his head; Jared bending over, leaning his hands against the rocky outcrops of the waterfall's walls, looking over his shoulder and daring Jensen to take him right there, Jared, Jared, _Jared_ – and Jensen’s dick hardens again.

It doesn't matter that he's not twenty anymore, this is Jared.

“I will,” he manages to get out around the arousal closing up his throat, and his voice is rough and broken. “I promise, baby, will fuck you so hard.”

“Yes,” Jared breathes out and tries to pull away, change positions, so Jensen twists them around and pushes Jared against the table.

“After I make you come,” Jensen says and bites down hard on Jared's shoulder.

Jared shudders and moans, doesn't come though, clinging with both hands to Jensen.

“Wanna come with you in me, with you fucking me. C'mon, Jen, been so long, want your dick, want you to fuck me so hard I'll still feel it tomorrow.”

Jensen knows Jared is goading him, but that doesn't mean the words are less effective.

He bites down again, because he needs an outlet, and twists his hand on the upstroke, digging a finger into the slit, adding pain to the pleasure, and Jared's panting, but still holding out.

So Jensen yanks him in tight, close quarters making it difficult to move his hand in a steady rhythm, but he lets his other hand trail over Jared's ass, slowly, to give him enough time to know what's coming, to anticipate it, to crave it, before he pushes a finger into Jared's crack, right over his hole.

“Don't worry baby,” he pants into Jared's ear, “gonna fuck you so good you'll still feel it in the next world.”

It sends Jared over the edge, making him come in long spurts all over Jensen’s fist and his still opened pants, some of it even landing on Jensen’s hard dick.

Jared's eyes are glazed over when Jensen looks up and he can't help but smirk a bit when he turns Jared around and pushes him down on the table.

Jared goes willingly, all pliant and fucked out, but he still manages to move with a sensual grace when he leans his upper body down on the table and pushes his ass out.

It's the most perfect ass Jensen has ever seen, was back then and is still now, a bit more muscled now and there's a scar there that runs from the side of his hip down his left cheek.

It makes Jensen furious, that Jared has been hurt, that he hadn't been there to protect him, and he's angry he doesn't have the time to explore all of Jared's body, find the new marks and touch them to beg for forgiveness.

Instead he reaches around, gathers the come from Jared's softening dick and and his belly, spits into his hand, and then slowly, but steadily works two fingers into Jared.

“Fuck.”

He's _tight_. Tight, like he hasn't been fucked in a long time, and suddenly Jensen needs to know.

“How many?”

He doesn't need to elaborate, can see in the shift in Jared's shoulders he understands. “No one.”

Jensen stills for a moment, can't believe-

“Not like I lived like a monk,” Jared breathes out, “but this, this was only ever yours. Only ever trusted you enough.”

Jensen draws his fingers back and puts his hands on Jared's hips. “Turn around.”

Jared does, twisting on the table, wood creaking under the movement, but Jensen doesn't care, just rips down Jared's pants to his boots, pulls them off with more force than skill and the pants follow.

“Take your shirt off,” he orders and pulls off his own boots.

By the time he slides the pants down and looks up again, Jared is naked and spread out on the table, legs pulled up to fit, open and inviting, just presenting himself for Jensen. His body is half lying in the shadows, the muted light not enough for Jensen to see the details. He can still see how fucking beautiful he is though.

He knows more than he sees about the blush covering his cheeks, hears Jared's heaving breaths, imagines he can even hear his heart beat and their smell is thickening in the room, sweat and dirt and come and sex.

Jared's gorgeous dick is slowly filling again and there's a gleam in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Jensen pulls his shirt over his head, crawls on the table, and fits himself between Jared's leg, a move practiced a hundred times, never to be forgotten.

He leans down to kiss Jared, tangle their tongues deep and lazy and slow, and Jensen doesn't care about sleep anymore, he's gonna take his fucking time. His dick is throbbing between his legs, come and spit still clinging to it, and twitching with the need to get inside, but Jensen will fucking savor this.

He lets his hands explore every inch over Jared's body, feels the scars, traces them and kisses them, every press of lips against too smooth tissue an apology. Jared understands, silently arching up, letting him ask for forgiveness and redemption and granting it with every breathless moan, every touch of his fingers to Jensen's back and arms.

Jensen feels Jared touch his own scars, the two round ones side by side over his heart, the long slide down his shoulder blade and the countless thin lines covering his arms and ribs.

“So many.” Jared's voice is full of sorrow and awe and Jensen kisses him.

“Doesn't matter. Never really mattered.”

Jared presses against him then, pushing up and Jensen feels his dick catch against Jared's rim, too tight and too dry, but when Jared says “please”, he pushes inside anyway.

It's not smooth, it's slow and torturous, Jared opening up inch by inch, and Jensen is going crazy. The pressure and the heat, feeling every ridge of Jared's body, feeling the way he moves with every breath he's sucking in and pushing out. It's too much, and with a sound that's more animalistic than human Jensen shoves hard, burying himself all the way inside of him.

Jared's hands clench around his shoulders and his mouth falls open in a silent scream, but Jensen knows it's the good kind, can still read Jared like a book.

He draws back, feeling Jared clinging to his dick every bit of the way, before he snaps his hips forwards again. He knows he's got all night, but suddenly he can't take it slow anymore, needs to drive into Jared over and over again, faster, harder, feeling him alive under him, around him, with him.

Jared's moving his hips in rhythm with Jensen, chasing his dick every time he pulls out, slamming their hips together so hard, the sound of slapping flesh almost drowns out their moans. But when Jensen shifts, raises up on his knees and gets more leverage, Jared screams.

Jensen chases that spot, making Jared cry out over and over again, his own deep grunts joining Jared's in the tiny room, echoing off the empty walls.

Suddenly, inevitably he's there, pressure coiling low in his belly, balls drawing up tight, and he fixes his eyes on Jared's face, traces a bead of sweat running down the side of his forehead, his cheek and then following the line of his neck down to the hollow of his throat.

Jensen leans down to lick it and Jared turns his head, his mouth searching for contact and Jensen kisses him, slotting their mouths together, teeth and tongue trying to find something to hold on to, something to last.

Jared's hands dig in tighter, grab his neck to pull him in even closer, and Jensen’s movements get sloppy, no control over his hips anymore.

“Yeah, yeah, c'mon.”

Jared's breath is hot against his lips and with one more deep thrust Jensen comes, pressure exploding and uncoiling, spreading through his whole body, riding it out with a few more thrusts of his hips and he feels Jared shudder and clench around his pulsing dick, the sensation almost too much.

He half-collapses on Jared, half manages to break the fall with his arms. Jared's lips find his again, and they share a few lazy, out-of-breath kisses.

The table is too hard and too small to be comfortable, but it's a while before Jensen can pull back and leave the pillow of Jared's chest with its beating heart in it.

He knows he won't be able to change Jared's mind, he never could, and it tears him up. But when they're done putting their clothes back on, Jared steps into his space and puts his head on his shoulder.

He used to do that a lot, back when he was younger, and still shorter than Jensen. But even though now he has at least four inches on him, Jensen puts a hand on Jared's neck and slowly rubs the soft strands of his hair between his fingers.

“We should go get some sleep,” Jensen says.

“We should,” Jared agrees, and Jensen knows neither of them is going to waste a single moment of this night with unconsciousness.

 

 


End file.
